


so much to tell you in so little time

by Anonymous



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-04-08
Packaged: 2018-01-18 16:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1434952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Who is my favourite kisser? I mean, wow, I… gotta be Alex, really.’</p><p>You’re just playing it up for the fans, you tell yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so much to tell you in so little time

Words, words, words. That’s all you have.

(That’s probably all you will ever have.)

A word after a word after a word. They come out of your mouth, dancing in the air: a word, a word, a word. Words are power. They could provoke wonders. They should get a response.

The only response _you_ get is silence.

 

~.~

 _‘You’ll be just fine,’_ she says the first time you meet her. You’re young and scared shitless that you’re going to disappoint everyone who believes in you. And yet something about her – maybe it’s the way she hugs you, or how solid her arms feel, or how sincere her voice sounds – makes you believe that it’s true.

(Turns out she was right. You were fine. You were better than fine.)

 _‘You’ll be just fine,’_ she says the last time you see her. You’re not that young anymore, but you’re still scared shitless. This time, you’re terrified you made a wrong choice. But she reassures you, says her praises and presses one last fleeting kiss to your cheek. And then she’s gone. You desperately want to believe her, but a part of you just can’t do it.

(Per usual, it turns out she was right. You are fine. Or you’re trying your best to be.)

 

~.~

_‘I said to Steven, I said: ‘Give Capaldi anyone, but don’t give away Alex. Don’t give away my wife.’_

A word, a word, a word.

You remember that conversation. It was a late night, you were at Steven’s house, discussing the future of the show with him. The future you’re not going to be a part of. It must’ve messed with your head, you think. Honest to god, it was supposed to be a joke. You _meant_ it as a joke. But the look that Steven gave you – poorly masked pity and nearly fatherly concern – it made you realise that the joke’s on you.

 

~.~

_‘Who is my favourite kisser? I mean, wow, I… gotta be Alex, really.’_

You’re just playing it up for the fans, you tell yourself. They’re on a convention. They stood for hours to get into the panel with you. They deserve something in return, some cheekiness, a playful remark here and there. And that’s all it is: a random mischievous remark. Everything for the fans, right?

(Except you remember every single one of your kisses and the long hours spent under too bright lights, the scent of her perfume under the powdery smell of hairspray and the director shouting _‘cut!’_ over and over again.

_‘At least try to make it a bit more kid friendly, would you?’_

You both just laughed and shrugged.

Back then you also played it up but you’re not quite sure whom for.)

 

~.~

Your memory must be playing tricks on you.

You now remember kisses that never happened.

Or maybe you remember kisses you wish had happened?

Semantics. Who cares about that.

It all belongs in the same category: Missed Chances And Lost Opportunities.

Except the chances weren’t missed. They have never existed to being with.

 

~.~

Sometimes when you feel lonely – or self-indulgently pathetic – you ask yourself the same old questions:

_What if?_

_What if?_

_What if?_

The answers don’t matter now. Maybe they would if you’d had the guts to ask the right question at the right time.

Or maybe, if you had asked the right question at the right time, you wouldn’t have to wonder about _what ifs_ now.

 

~.~

_‘I keep saying to him, 'anyone but River, Steven, anyone but River.' Umm...No, look, it's Doctor Who. I don't own it. I have to let it go. Just go, 'Argggh, darn it!' And I think Alex and Peter would be really good together. And it's the Doctor, it's not me, it's the Doctor, so I think for the fan and the Doctor it's probably a good thing. But don't do it, Steven, if you're watching this on some sort of youtube repeat!’_

You talk louder and louder.

There’s still no response.

The silence deafens you.

 

~.~

You’re pretty sure it’s not how it should be. At least it’s not how it happens in books. And when you say ‘books’, you mean ‘dreadfully cheesy and terribly written romances that for some reason people love’. But this is how it happens in that reality:

_Boy meets girl. They instantly fall in love, but neither of them wants to admit it. Or maybe neither of them realises that. She’s too troubled or has too much baggage and he’s too stupid – or young – to understand what he really feels. Time passes, but their feelings don’t change. Everyone around them sees that they are perfect for each other, but they just shrug it off and roll their eyes. But oh, how they long for each other. He wants her to purr tender words in his ear and she wants to whisper them against his skin. They crave for each other, but do nothing to quench that thirst._

_More time passes and they find themselves on different paths. They bid their goodbyes and go their separate ways. And this is the moment of The Big Realisation: the boy finally sees how he feels. He see it clearly and sharply and he decides to act on it. He calls the girl late at night, confesses his love and how full of misery his life is without her. And she responds in the same way: confesses her longing and her desire, her will to make things work. One conversation is all it takes and finally they fall into each others’ arms, all issues resolved._

_They live Happily Ever After Until The End Of Time._

_End of story._

 

Except no stories end like that. It only happens in cheap literature, never in life.

Sometimes, the stories end before they even begin.

Sometimes, you just have to forget and move on.

Sometimes, words said _too late_ is all you have.


End file.
